


Iron Sparks

by agirlsname



Series: New Year's Kiss [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anniversary, Established Relationship, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, POV John Watson, Semi-Public Sex, through an iron gate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlsname/pseuds/agirlsname
Summary: When midnight approaches, John and Sherlock are stuck on different sides of an iron gate. That's not going to stop them from having their traditional New Year's kiss.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: New Year's Kiss [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/926577
Comments: 49
Kudos: 246





	Iron Sparks

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [[授权翻译] 铁与火花](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069543) by [BakerSt233B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerSt233B/pseuds/BakerSt233B)



> Who else always hisses KISS, YOU IDIOTS when John and Sherlock have that intense moment through an iron gate in TRF ("we're going to need to coordinate")? This fic is for you.
> 
> And you know how I like to write stories that are emotional and profound and deal with things like parenthood, internalised homophobia and death? This is not one of those fics. It's just a bit of smutty fun to wish you all a HAPPY NEW YEAR!
> 
> Thank you [shreylock](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shreylock) for coming up with the whole plot (except IRON GATE SEX, which was as far as I'd gotten after thinking about this for a year). I'm constantly in awe of your imagination and creativity, Chiara!
> 
> And thank you Akhenaten's Mummy for the beta. SEE YOU IN A WEEK! (Yes, that's right, I'm travelling across the world to meet my beta and friend for the very first time. Imagine the inspirations this trip could bring!?!)

It is the dampest New Year's Eve of John Watson's life. Ten minutes before midnight he's jogging up a steep hill in the darkness, cold and annoyed and alone. It's a mild winter this year, but he isn't sure it's any better than a blizzard, with the fog coating his skin in a moist film and sneaking in through his seams.

Somewhere on top of the hill, Sherlock is waiting for him in the garden of a posh mansion. They've spent the night working on catching the thief living there, and they were chasing her across the grounds when Sherlock slipped in the wet grass. He must have sprained his ankle or something, because he didn't make it to the gate in the wall surrounding the mansion before it shut. The criminal made it through though, John hot on her heels.

The thief was a good runner, but John was damned if he was going to let her get away after having stolen not only her mother-in-law's opals, but also the romantic evening he'd been looking forward to. He skidded down the hill after her, struggling not to let her black clothes blend into the darkness. They were a good distance from her house when he finally managed to tackle her into the dewy grass and call Lestrade.

Greg had not been happy to be pulled from a New Year's party half an hour before midnight, especially since he worked last New Year's too. But he grudgingly agreed to come and take the thief off John's hands. He also offered John and Sherlock a ride, but Sherlock would never agree to ride in a police car. John had no desire to cap this night off with _that_ argument. So he just asked the thief for the key to the gate in her wall, which she threw at him with a sneer.

John clutches the electronic key in his hand as he struggles back up the hill. He pulls out his mobile to check the time: eleven fifty-five. He swears under his breath.

It's not that the case hasn't been fun. In fact, the holidays have been packed with one interesting case after another. Sherlock has been excited and brilliant, and John's input has been crucial to the solution several times; they've been a good team. Not a bad way at all to spend a holiday.

It's just that John had sort of hoped Sherlock would make the time zone thing a tradition and they would spend all day kissing. He will never know if that's something Sherlock had planned; this case turned up before the new year begun in Kiritimati.

John wasn't eager to accept the case. As much fun as work has been, it's meant that Sherlock hasn't been up for more than perfunctory kisses in over a week. New Year's Eve seemed like a good night to break the dry spell. But Sherlock assured him that they would definitely be finished with the case by midnight, and John let himself be talked into it. It's his greatest weakness; he's never able to deny Sherlock Holmes anything.

The mansion finally comes into sight, lighting up the night. There are no close neighbours and no street lights, so the only light comes from the windows of the house. The stone wall surrounding the mansion is high and the gate in it is fancy; thick, black iron bars with an elegant ornament on top.

John spots the outline of Sherlock behind the closed gate. His long coat and riot of curls cut a stark silhouette against the lights behind him. He clasps the iron bars in his gloved hands.

“We owe Lestrade a favour”, John calls when he draws closer.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “That girl would never have agreed to sleep with him anyway. If anything, we spared him the humiliation of rejection.”

“How do you- Oh, never mind.” John slows down and points the electronic key at the iron gate. He presses the button.

There is a beeping sound from somewhere behind the stone wall.

Meeting Sherlock's gaze, he tries again.

The thief's car beeps once more and the gate remains firmly locked.

“Oh for-”

“Don't press it again, John, it will make you look-”

_Beep-beep!_

“-stupid.”

“That little fuck!” John grabs the iron bars and rattles the gate before realising that he will look even more stupid when he does that. He peers up; the gate really is ridiculously high. “Can you pick the lock?”

“Already tried.”

John pulls out his mobile to call Lestrade again. Sherlock, the utter bastard, actually looks bored. John notes that it's now just three minutes until midnight which only infuriates him further.

“No”, Greg answers when he picks up. “Whatever it is, no.”

“She gave me the wrong key”, John bites out. “Sherlock is locked inside her wall and she gave me the keys to her bloody car.”

Greg snorts. “Karma's a bitch.”

John swears when he hangs up.

“Two minutes until midnight. I can't believe I listened to you.”

“Technically, the case did finish before midnight.”

“Right. That's great. And what now?”

“Well, now we can celebrate.”

“Now we can- Sherlock, you're trapped!”

“Only until you go to Scotland Yard and get the right key.”

“That won't be until tomorrow!” John rubs a hand across his eyes. “Maybe you can just find a bed inside the house.”

Sherlock frowns. “But then I have to leave you.”

“Yeah – that's how it works when you're stuck on different sides of an iron gate.”

“But it's midnight in one minute.”

“So?”

“So we have to kiss.”

John looks up. “What?” he asks stupidly.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, but he suddenly looks soft. Almost a bit shy. “It's tradition that we kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve.”

“We've only done it once”, John points out, smiling.

“No, we've done it thirty-eight times.”

John chuckles quietly. “Sure. Well. I guess we can still kiss through this thing.”

Sherlock smiles warmly. His curls are glistening with dew, letting the moon pour silver light onto them. Suddenly John doesn't mind the damp so much, and when he steps closer to the iron gate he isn't even that cold.

“Ten seconds”, Sherlock whispers. His sweet breath blows across John's face. They stare into each other's eyes – only Sherlock's eyes can ever look so intense, and only when he's looking at John. It makes John's stomach swoop every time.

The air rattles with fireworks when Sherlock leans in towards a gap between two iron bars. John tilts his head to the right and goes up on his tiptoes to fit his lips against Sherlock's.

He thought this would be a short kiss. He thought it would be awkward because of the railings. But Sherlock's lips part softly as soon as they touch his, letting John practically melt into his hot mouth. John moans at an unexpected surge of arousal, hands coming up to grip the iron railings before his knees can buckle. Sherlock hums in response – and the bastard bloody _knows_ what that deep baritone does to John.

The only point of contact between them is their mouths; it shouldn't be so hot, but the intention in the slow slide of Sherlock's tongue is unmistakable. The lunatic is ready to snog John to madness right here through this ruddy gate, and if _that_ isn't a turn-on John doesn't know what is. Especially when Sherlock presses himself against the iron bars in an effort to get closer to John.

It's so typical; Sherlock's libido always spikes after a case. Mostly John tries to see to it that they make it home before he's cornered by a tall, dark, seductive man in a dramatic coat; but he supposes that the tone for this relationship was set at that very first encounter in a client's guest room two years ago. Sherlock has no self-control in his post-case satisfaction. And John is helpless before the Sherlock who lets his mind go and craves John the way he does right now.

Sherlock reaches through the railings to grab the back of John's head, drawing his face in closer to get better access to his mouth. John's nose presses painfully against a railing when he tries to angle his face in a way that will make this work. When Sherlock releases his mouth to try to kiss his neck, pulling John against the gate until iron digs into his skin, John's had enough. He reaches out to grab the front of Sherlock's coat and force him back upright.

“Sherlock, wait!”

Sherlock blinks at him with dazed eyes. John leans in close, staring back at him firmly.

“We're going to need to coordinate”, John says with a low voice, trying to sound sensible. None of this seems very sensible to begin with; take this any further and they're facing a public sex situation. Although with the lack of neighbours it barely counts.

Sherlock stares back at him, then his eyes flick over his face and the iron bars separating them.

“Look to your right.”

“Huh?”

“Look to your right! And lean in closer.”

John does, and Sherlock's lips immediately hit that sweet spot just below his left ear.

After that there is no calling this off. John presses himself against the iron gate, trying to get closer to Sherlock behind it, his pelvis hoping in vain for some decent friction. He can feel Sherlock's erection in the gap between two railings. John sneaks a hand through the opening in Sherlock's coat, splaying it across the front of Sherlock's trousers. Sherlock throws his head back and moans.

John looks up at him. His skin is almost unearthly, pale in the moonlight. His features are sharp against the cascade of colours on the night sky above them. He is utterly breathtaking.

Right, that decides _that_.

John drops to his knees, beyond caring about the damp now. “ _Yes_ ”, Sherlock hisses above him, shoving his hips against the gate. John parts Sherlock's heavy coat, opens his fly and pulls him out. He pauses a moment to take in the sight of Sherlock Holmes, fully clothed in someone else's fancy garden, naked erection sticking out through two railings in the gate. His eyes are heavy-lidded and his lips parted, his damp curls shining in colours from the fireworks.

When John takes him into his mouth, Sherlock shudders and lets out a relieved “haaaaaah”. His leather-clad fingers grasp John's hair through the gate, pulling him in closer. John complies until his cheeks push against the railings. His mouth is full, but he's not at risk of gagging with the barrier between them. Sherlock must realise this at the same time as John does, because he pulls back and pushes back in with a force he'd never otherwise use. John groans and fumbles for Sherlock's hips, guiding him back and forth to show him it's okay.

“Ohh, John”, Sherlock breathes, grabs him harder and begins to fuck his mouth.

John grabs hold of two railings to steady himself. He closes his eyes. It's staggering how amazing it can be just to listen to the sounds Sherlock makes. Just to witness this genius give in completely to his body, using John for his pleasure without self-consciousness. John lowers one hand into his own pants. Oh, it feels a hundred times better simply because Sherlock is here with him.

Sherlock comes to a new surge of firework-cracks, drowning out his gasps and spewing golden stars into the sky like some cheesy metaphor. John follows with Sherlock's cock still twitching in his mouth. His pants will be damp until he gets home, now; totally worth it.

Sherlock releases John's hair, collapsing against the gate and trying to catch his breath. John wipes his hand on the wet grass before he gets to his feet. He kisses Sherlock's slack lips through the gate.

“Mmmm”, Sherlock says, “that was terrific.”

“Yeah”, John smiles. He threads his fingers through Sherlock's hair. There is another cascade of sparkling stars above them, and John tips his head back to look at it. “Nice setting, too.”

“Hmm.” Sherlock lets his eyes droop closed. “Nothing says romance like iron, gunpowder, aluminium and lithium burning in the sky.”

“Exactly.” John manages a graceless kiss at the tip of Sherlock's nose. “Too bad we can't do the cuddling bit.”

“We can.” Sherlock waves his hand lazily. “I'll just go get the key.”

John pulls back a fraction. “What?”

“The extra key to the gate. It's in her desk drawer.”

John stares at Sherlock. “I'm sorry, _what_?”

Sherlock opens his eyes, then rolls them. “What, you thought I had _no way_ of getting out? I have access to the entire mansion, garden shed included. If nothing else, I could always find a ladder.”

John sputters. “Then why didn't you?!”

Sherlock frowns in what could be genuine confusion. “Because then you wouldn't have given me oral sex through an iron gate – John, do keep up.”

John tries to be upset at being manipulated into blowing his boyfriend through some gate on bloody New Year's. But he makes the mistake of meeting Sherlock's gaze, and then it takes them precisely two seconds to start laughing. They fall against the iron bars on either side of the gate, giggling into each other's ears.

“Well, happy new year”, John says when he can speak again.

“Happy anniversary”, Sherlock says softly.

John looks up into Sherlock's gleaming eyes. They share a gentle kiss – which ends when John's sore nose bumps against the iron again.

“Let's get the fuck out of here”, John murmurs.

**Author's Note:**

> See you next year, hopefully! Feel free to drop me prompts/vague ideas/insane wishes for future entries to this series.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[授权翻译] 铁与火花](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22069543) by [BakerSt233B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerSt233B/pseuds/BakerSt233B)
  * [[Cover] Iron Sparks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22081945) by [BakerSt233B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerSt233B/pseuds/BakerSt233B)




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